


Hallelujah

by johnny cade (johnnycake)



Series: Switchblades and Leather [24]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: AIDS, AIDS crisis, Gay Dallas Winston, Gay Johnny Cade, HIV, M/M, talk of abuse, trans johnny cade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnycake/pseuds/johnny%20cade
Summary: Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston are gay HIV positive gay activists who move to New York in the 80s.(still in switchblades and leather because everything is the same except it's in a different time period; marked as complete bc we know my motivation levels)





	1. To Whom It May Concern

**Author's Note:**

> i watched how to survive a plague and cried a lot and got this idea. as you can imagine this is gonna be really sad, but also slightly hopeful bc that's my brand. also the overall feeling for this fic is gone by ionnalee and hallelujah by rufus wainwright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i make a fic sad when i spoil the ending right away??? time to find out!!!

_To whom it may concern,_

 

_I’m writing this letter, not to make you angry, but to make you aware. This can happen to anyone and it can happen to anyone of any sexual orientation. The only reason everyone wants to pretend it’s any other way is because religious zealots want a reason to hate us. I just didn’t realize how much until I was dying, until I was watching my boyfriend die and none of you cared._

_He was only nineteen when he died and he’d spend the years before that wishing he was dead because his parents abused him and the world hated him. It was only when he was dying that he realized he no longer wanted to die and that is probably the saddest thing I’ll ever write._

_We both did everything we could to save ourselves from this disease that we never asked for, that we didn’t even know we had and that we have no idea how we got it, but we can only do so much. And I think, whoever is reading this, knows that. You know you didn’t do enough. You know the blood of millions of gay men and women are on your hands. You probably don’t care, but that’s the truth and I need you to know it, so you can do better in the future._

_There still isn’t a cure for this disease. I don’t think I will live long enough to see one. But there is hope for the next generation. That was enough for us. Maybe that’ll be enough for them too._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Dallas Winston_  
_Tulsa, Oklahoma_

 

_P.S. Enclosed is my story. You don’t have to read it. I don’t even expect you to. But I hope you do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk when i'm going to get to the first chapter bc i literally have zero clue how to start this at the moment rip. also i have another idea for a full length fic, but idk when i'm going to get around to writing that one. it will also be a part of this series tho.


	2. The Very First Hospital Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny's been sick for two weeks and Dallas is worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy i didn't think i was gonna write this today, but here we are!! also this is like....after the stonewall riots?? but like before any good aids drugs were out, so idk what the exact time period is, but i'll tell you once i do more research. i'm doing this as i go rip.

Dallas initially decided to take Johnny to the hospital because he’d been sick for two weeks, but when he’d checked his temperature that morning and it’d been over one-hundred degrees, he’d decided he was also a little worried about what having that high of a fever could mean too. He’d had a fever off and on for the two weeks he’d been sick and, during those two weeks, he’d been staying over at Dally’s place as often as possible. His father had been home for a couple of days and during those days he’d stayed at the Curtis place – after Dallas insisted he stay _some_ where indoors – but he’d come back after. But he hadn’t gotten better. In fact, he only seemed to be getting worse and now with a fever this high...it was just time to see a doctor.

“Dallas, I’m fine,” Johnny said from the passenger seat of Buck Merrill’s car. He rested his head in his hand, his elbow resting on the edge of the car door by the window. He was staring out the windshield, watching the world as it came upon them.

Dally didn’t even need to look at him to know that wasn’t true. His normally brown skin was paper white and clammy. His hair was a mess and the ends were soaked with his sweat. He wasn’t even wearing his denim jacket, it was on the seat beside him, he was so hot. He’d lost weight since he’d gotten sick too. An abnormal amount and Dallas didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But that was why they were headed to the hospital. For answers. Even if Johnny didn’t think they needed them. Dallas needed them.

 _What if they tell you what you don’t want to hear?_ A nasty voice reminded him, but he shook his head in an attempt to ignore it. He didn’t want to consider it. He didn’t want to think about what it might mean. He didn’t want to admit he’d seen dark spots on Johnny’s skin when he’d been bathing or showering during the past few weeks. Dallas didn’t read a lot, but he wasn’t blind or deaf and he didn’t stay holed up in his house all day. He knew what was going on. He saw the protests whenever he turned on the TV to any of the news stations broadcasted in Tulsa. He knew what was happening. He also knew if it were happening to Johnny it was very likely happening to him. They’d had sex more than once in the last few weeks.

He turned sharply onto the road the hospital was on and parked in the lot near the emergency room entrance. _He_ felt like this was an emergency. He wasn’t sure the doctors would agree, especially if Johnny were protesting it weren’t and, to be honest, he was afraid to tell them the truth. If he did, what would they say? Would they turn them away? Folks weren’t nice to gay people in Tulsa. And, even if it weren’t true and he and Johnny weren’t gay – and Johnny weren’t trans – they still might assume both of those things were true simply because of what he had.

 _Might have,_ he corrected himself quickly. _You don’t know for sure yet._

And all of that was true, but as he looked at Johnny out of the corner of his eye as he got out of the car and then helped him out, he felt like he was trying to tell himself the sky was purple when he knew damn well that it was and always had been blue.

That thought alone made a lump form in his throat.

Thank heaven for small mercies, Tulsa being a small town had had almost no cases and when Dally walked into the emergency room with Johnny trailing along behind him, muttering about how he was fine and wanted to go home, despite the fact he couldn’t walk a straight line, he was thankful to see the emergency waiting room was almost empty.

“What’s your emergency?” the woman sitting behind the desk inside the doors asked him. She didn’t look up at him. Dallas glanced over his shoulder and saw Johnny staring into the fish tank in the corner. He didn’t like talking to people. Dallas swallowed hard.

“It’s my…friend,” he said. He clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to say boyfriend. It wasn’t fair he couldn’t. “My friend. He’s been sick with a high fever for a few days and been sick with flu-like symptoms for two weeks.” He swallowed again, turning back to Johnny who was tapping lightly on the glass to get the attention of the fish. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew he was smiling. His heart clenched. “And he’s got dark spots on his skin. I think-I think you should do a blood test.” He turned back to the woman at the desk. “Me too.”

The woman’s lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed. Dally tried not to feel judged.

He hadn’t said it. He hadn’t even thought it yet, but he hadn’t had to.

She’d known exactly what he meant anyway. She knew why he hesitated saying ‘friend’.

 _It isn’t fair,_ he thought to himself, clenching his teeth now too as she called Johnny over to give him a wristband. She gave Dally one too.

 _Not it’s not,_ something in him replied. _But it’s the way things are._

_Then we need to change the way things are._

_But how?_

That Dally didn’t have an answer to. So he led Johnny over to a seat in the waiting room and tried not to flinch and wince as Johnny coughed horribly into the crook of his elbow before he took a shuddering breath and laid his head on Dally’s shoulder, but Dally could feel the weight of his whole body against him. He couldn’t help noticing it was significantly less than it’d been. He looked down at their hands, their fingers laced together, their hospital bracelets pressed together. Johnny’s fingers, pale like the rest of him, even looked smaller.

Even though there were only two other people in the waiting room with them, it felt like it took hours for the nurse to finally call their names. By then, Johnny had fallen asleep against Dally and Dally felt guilty waking him. Johnny blinked up at him blearily as Dallas wrapped an arm around him and helped him to his feet, letting him lean against him as they followed the nurse to their room.

There was only one bed, but they were both expected to change into hospital gowns.

“Why’re you changing into that too, Dal?” Johnny asked, undressing slowly from tiredness. Dally couldn’t help noticing how much thinner Johnny looked too as he changed. He swallowed hard and took off his own clothes quickly, but at Johnny’s question he froze.

There was no good answer he could come up with that wouldn’t scare Johnny. And Johnny would know, too, if he were lying. He was good at that.

So he did the only thing he could.

He told him the truth.

“I wanna get my blood tested.”

Johnny had just finished getting into his hospital gown and he turned to look at Dally so fast he nearly fell over. Dallas immediately rushed forward to steady him, but Johnny pushed off him and leaned against the bed instead. He looked up at him, a betrayed look on his face and Dally almost winced as he realized what must have happened: Johnny had put two and two together much more quickly than he’d thought. How had he thought for a minute Johnny would be ignorant of this illness?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny asked his voice soft, barely more than a whisper. There were tears in his eyes and it broke Dally’s heart because it made him realize something else.

Johnny had already suspected this. The fact Dallas did too seemed to confirm in his mind his worst fears, the ones he’d been thus far successfully hiding. It only made Dallas feel worse. How had he not noticed this before now?

But a moment later it didn’t matter anymore because a doctor was coming in behind them saying he was going to walk them down the blood lab where they would get their blood drawn. The doctor walked in front of them and Dallas moved close to Johnny, grabbing his hand as they walked, squeezing hard. Johnny squeezed his hand just as tightly back.

Later Dallas would remember that moment, always crystal clear in his mind: both of them, walking down to the blood lab, their fingers interlocked, somehow no one noticing, both dressed in hospital gowns far too big for them. It was the last moment they were safe, even though they already knew they were on a sinking ship.

The nurses at the blood lab were kind. Dally didn’t want to let go of Johnny’s hand and he could tell as Johnny looked up at him that he felt the same way, but they both squeezed each other’s hands one last time before letting go and letting each of the nurses take them to a station where they sat, a tray closed over them. The nurses all wore masks and latex gloves. They talked animatedly, but Dallas could tell it was to hide how nervous they were. To Dally’s right, there was a rack of tubes, a stack of identification stickers, a pile of disinfectant wipes, and an assorted pile of needles. He watched the nurse select one and pick up one of the wipes as well. She ripped it open and wiped down the crook of his elbow. Then she stuck the needle into his arm and let three test tubes fill up with his blood.

Dallas watched it happen, watched the tubes fill with the thick dark red substance and wondered if doctors could tell from sight alone if someone’s blood was infected. He doubted it. He couldn’t see anything different with his blood right now. The thought made a pang stab his chest. Wasn’t that what everyone had been saying for years? In the end we all bleed the same blood? And it seemed that was still true. Even when you were sick, your blood still looked the same. It was only under a microscope that it was any different.

And if it could only be seen that way...did it even really count?

Once the nurse got as much blood as she needed, she held a cotton ball to his arm while she pulled out the needle, then had him hold it while she wrapped his arm with gauze and told him not to take it off for twenty minutes.

“What about the test results?” Dallas asked, getting up from the chair.

He could see Johnny getting up as well. He didn’t look at the nurse.

“You’ll get those in thirty to forty-five minutes,” the nurse replied.

Dallas swallowed, moving towards Johnny who was waiting at the door for him with the doctor who had walked them down to the lab, having a feeling they were going to be the longest thirty to forty-five minutes of his life.

The walk back down the hall was much more solemn than the walk there had been. They still clutched each other’s hands. But Johnny looked at the ground now, chewing nervously on his thumb nail, and Dallas watched his feet as they walked. It was different from when they’d both been looking up as they walked down to the lab.

Maybe because going to the lab had made it feel real.

There were no lights on in their room and there was only one hospital bed, which Johnny took, lying down on his side and staring blankly at the wall opposite him. Dallas sat down in the chair next to the bed and stared at the other wall, his expression equally blank. He didn’t have to look at Johnny or talk to him to know what he was thinking.

_Why is it always us this happens to?_

As he predicted, the minutes ticked by slowly and it gave him plenty of time to think of what he would do if the test results came back positive. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t really stop himself. There were images of more hospitals, more rooms like these, the gang hating them, everyone hating them. And for what? Being sick. They were only sick. And they’d be hated for it.

He supposed it was unfair to assume that would be the gang’s reaction. They’d accepted them when they’d told them about their relationship. It really seemed out of character for them to now turn their backs on them. Especially when they found out they had a terminal illness.

 _You don’t know that yet,_ he insisted, but it felt weak. Because he _did_ know. Even before the doctor came into their room looking sullen and told them the test results. Hell, even before they’d gone down to the lab. Even before they’d walked into the hospital. He had known.

Johnny didn’t say anything, but Dallas could see his lower lip trembling and his eyes filling with tears. Johnny was suicidal almost always because of the way his parents had treated him all his life and the way they continued to treat him. But hearing you were going to die soon wasn’t something anyone wanted to hear.

“There’s more,” the doctor went on after the initial news. Dallas looked at him and felt his heart clench all over again. The doctor looked grave. “Dallas, your T4 count is still relatively high despite the fact your CD4 cells are also being destroyed. You’re still in the early stages and have a while before it becomes deadly.”

“But?” Dallas asked, his voice thin and tight.

“But,” the doctor said, not looking at him now, “Johnny’s a different story.”

“Different how?” Dally asked, his voice strangely loud and high pitched.

“His T4 count is significantly lower. He’s already in the final stages of HIV. I’m not entirely sure how because it doesn’t seem like he’s had it that long, but if he has a past history of low immunity and illness that could be the cause. Either way, the odds of him getting AIDs is much higher and will probably happen within the next year. I don’t think he’ll survive to be twenty.”

A part of Dallas felt it wasn’t fair they were talking about Johnny like he wasn’t there, but he hated himself for feeling like that was easier. The doctor’s words made him feel cold and numb and everything he said after that didn’t really register in his mind. It sounded muffled, as though someone had stuffed cotton in his ears and were talking to him through Jello.

The doctor’s words echoed in his head over and over again.

_I don’t think he’ll survive to be twenty. I don’t think he’ll survive to be twenty._

Johnny was already sixteen, almost seventeen. That wasn’t very long.

“There’s a slim chance a cure or some process to slow down the advancement of the virus will be found before then,” the doctor was saying now. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

But the words had struck a hope in Dallas and as they got back into their street clothes and left the hospital, Dally knew Johnny felt it too. Johnny stared out his own window the whole ride back, his hands pressed between his knees as he watched the world fly by. He was silent and for a long time, Dallas thought it was because he was sad, depressed about what had just happened. It wasn’t until they got home and Johnny turned to him he saw the fire in this eyes.

“We have to do something about it, Dallas,” he said.

“About what?” Dally asked, stopping the car and getting out. He went around to help Johnny out of his side of the car and led him back into his house. His eyes flicked to the driveway automatically. His father wasn’t home yet.

“About _this_ ,” Johnny said firmly. He gestured to himself.

“You mean us being sick?” Dallas asked. “Yeah, well, there’s no cure, Johnnycake.”

“There’s reasons why that is,” Johnny replied, shaking his head. “The government ain’t helpin’ us. They’re tryin’ to bury this. They’re tryin’ to make out like it ain’t happenin’. We can fix that. Or we can go find the people who are tryin’ and help them.”

Johnny kept talking, going on about all of the ways they could help the other people like them in other places in America and around the world. Dallas had never heard him like this before, but then he understood why he felt this way about this and not about the Socs: there were no fighting involved. Not really. Not the kind that he was afraid of. There _was_ fighting, but it was the kind of fighting Johnny had thought they should be doing all along.

It felt strange to Dallas to think that night as he made them dinner, still listening to Johnny’s ideas about ways to help the world, that despite Johnny getting sick to the point he was going to die in a few years for Dallas had fallen in love with him even more.

It also felt strange to see Johnny so passionate about something, so much more vibrant and full of life than he’d been in years, but, at the same time, it made sense. Dallas understood it.

Johnny liked helping people. He wanted to die helping people. He knew he was living on borrowed time now. And Dallas could only smile, despite everything, as they ate dinner together, knowing deep in his heart that Johnny was going to help change the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW DO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AIDS AND THE MAJORITY OF THE AIDS CRISIS AND AM TRYING TO LEARN WHILE WRITING THIS!!!!! if i get anything wrong lemme know, but as always i bend the rules for angst. also i have no idea what to do next so if any of y'all have ideas, PLS LEMME KNOW.


End file.
